


River

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dean’s the bossiest of bossy bottoms, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, dean topping from the bottom, just the way I like him to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: Inspired by the song River by Joni Michell - these lines in particular:I'm so hard to handleI'm selfish and I'm sadNow I've gone and lost the best babyThat I ever had





	River

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glass_Jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Jacket/gifts).



> Inspired by the song River by Joni Michell - these lines in particular:  
> I'm so hard to handle  
> I'm selfish and I'm sad  
> Now I've gone and lost the best baby  
> That I ever had

It’s not the snow that reminds him of Benny; it’s the continuous low light, that sense of impending darkness, the chill in the air and the subsequent eagerness for comfort. Dean’s experienced plenty of winters, but this is the first since purgatory – since he sent Benny back there.

The seedy bar two towns to the east is the place he goes when he needs to scratch that itch, if only for a moment. He’s never given details to Sammy about where he’s going and why, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out – and his little brother, consequently, is an actual genius.

So he goes without explanation.

Dean finds him amidst the thin crowd and cheap holiday decorations. He’s shorter than Dean, thicker, blue eyes just this side of grey, and more than a few days past a clean shave. The beard is what clinches it.

The bartender recognizes Dean as he takes a seat next to the blue-eyed stranger and brings him a shot of whiskey and a bottle of beer. “Hungry?” he asks Dean, in lieu of a traditional greeting. “Got a meatloaf special tonight.”

“Sounds good, Mac,” Dean says before taking his shot. “Need a little somethin’ to warm me up, know what I mean?” He winks, and Mac chuckles before turning and placing his order.

Minutes pass as Dean sips his beer. This game is second nature to him. He’s never had to solicit attention – not from women or men, whether they were paying or it was a mutual gratification thing. Since he was 16-years-old, all Dean’s ever had to do was make himself available.

“You live around here?” the man’s voice is soft like Benny’s, but not as melodic and it almost puts Dean off.

Dean turns his head enough to gauge the guy’s intentions. He scans his posture, the way his body turns toward Dean’s, knees open in invitation. “Around, yeah,” Dean answers, flicking his eyes up to meet steel blue.

He doesn’t ask where the stranger’s from. It doesn’t matter where he’s from. He wants to know his name, though.

“Can I buy you a beer…?” Dean turns his body to face the man, extends his hand.

The stranger smiles down at Dean’s hand, tilts his beer and nods. “Sure thing,” he says, taking Dean’s hand to shake. “Name’s Ty.”

Dean holds his hand, shaking slowly, just long enough to solidify his own intentions. “Dean,” he says.

“Boilermakers for me and my new friend, Mac,” Dean says, motioning between himself and Ty then downing his beer in three large gulps. Mac doesn’t miss a beat. Within seconds there are two fresh whiskey shots and two cold bottles of beer in front of Dean and Ty.

Thirty-minutes later, both men have finished their meals and are each at least three beer/shot combos deep. Dean wipes his mouth on his napkin, tosses it to his plate, and pushes away from the bar. “Gotta hit the head,” he says, leaning into Ty just enough. Ty catches his eye and nods.

Dean’s washing his hands when Ty slips inside the small bathroom. He turns for a second and throws the lock then faces Dean again with a hungry gaze.

Dean stands up straight and tall, dries his hands slow and methodical. “You lost?” he asks, tossing the wet paper towel into the trash bin.

Ty moves into his space, pushes his fingers up under Dean’s work shirt then hooks those fingers in the waistband of his jeans. “Right where I belong, darlin’,” he says, inching up to kiss Dean’s lips.

The kiss is unexpected; not the fact of it per se, but the sensations that come with it. Dean feels light and heavy at the same, heat flushes his skin on impact, and Ty’s lips are softer than Dean had anticipated.

He curls a hand around the back of Ty’s head, fingers urging him on, tongue diving and swirling. His other hand grips the neck of Ty’s t-shirt and twists. “Get my pants open,” Dean mutters.

Before he knows it, Ty’s spinning him and pressing his back against the concrete block wall. “Whaddaya think I’m here for?” Ty nips at his lips and grins as Dean slumps against the wall with a groan. “Wanna see that pretty dick.”

Dean holds onto Ty’s overshirt, soft, flannel placards balled in his fists as Ty works his pants open, boxers down, gets his meaty hand around his hard heat. Dean sighs and rolls his head back looks up at the ceiling until he closes his eyes.

Then he hears Ty spit, feels his grip tighten and his hand start to move. Dean grabs him by the face, pulls him in again and kisses him. He murmurs words of encouragement and satisfaction against the other man’s lips.

Ty’s an expert at jerking him off. Dean knows good sex is based almost entirely in attraction, chemistry, just how fucking hot somebody can make you with one look – but he likes to romanticize the act a bit. It makes him feel better about himself.

Dean pulls Ty’s lips between the firm grip of his own before pressing their foreheads together. “Make me come and I’m on my knees,” he whispers, and Ty laughs quietly.

“How’d I know you’d take a cock so easy?” Ty teases, twists his wrist, spits again in a long string, and uses a second hand to cup and roll Dean’s balls. “What I’d do to you if I had more time…”

Dean grits his teeth on a groan and slams his head back against the wall as he comes hot and sticky over Ty’s hand and wrist. His breath is coming in rapid puffs as he lets Ty clean him up with a handkerchief. “Such a gentleman,” he mutters as Ty tucks his handkerchief away and refastens Dean’s jeans.

“Pretty sure you said somethin’ about bein’ on your knees,” Ty says. He reaches up to tilt Dean’s chin with his crooked forefinger and traces Dean’s lower lip with his thumb. Dean returns the gesture by running his tongue across his lip, brushing the tip of that thick thumb along the way.

He stands upright again, places the flat of his palm against Ty’s clavicle and walks, pushing until Ty’s back hits the opposite wall. Ty doesn’t have time to make another quip before Dean’s on his knees, smirking up at him, and yanking his belt and pants open.

He’s quiet as he sets to work – first gripping the base of Ty’s cock, then licking the tip and swirling, and finally taking the length all the way down his throat, slow and steady. Dean gags and groans around the thick head. He relaxes his jaw and shifts his weight back on his feet because he wants to draw this one out.

Dean’s always loved giving head – the act itself, the taste, the utterly satisfied sounds that come out of his partners when they come. He loves giving head, yeah, but he’s also exceptional at giving head.

Ty pushes a hand into his hair, makes a fist and pulls. Dean smiles around the mouthful and brushes his flat tongue back and forth under Ty’s length. When he pulls back to look up, Ty’s staring down at him in awe. Dean smirks like the cocky little asshole Ty probably thinks he is before diving back down to work.

“ _Shit_ ,” Ty breathes, tugging Dean’s short tuft of hair. “Takin’ it deep, baby.”

Dean slides a hand up under Ty’s t-shirt, then, scrapes blunt nails over his skin, pushes higher to pluck at his nipple, and swallows around his thick heat. He bobs his head down and up, never letting go, keeping it at a simmer.

Ty thrusts, but Dean catches his hip before he gets too deep, pulls off of him and looks him in the eye. “Patience,” Dean says with a playful warning in his eyes. He knows how to get his way and he will not let Ty come too soon.

He teases him again, swirls his tongue around the head, sucks it just inside his full lips. Ty whimpers, making Dean silently chuckle. He takes him down his throat again, slowly, tongue flat underneath.

Dean does this thing that _everybody_ loves, whether they’ve got a pussy or a dick, and when he does it to Ty – curls the sides of his tongue to squeeze, make his tongue strong and firm – Ty’s knees buckle. Dean laughs quietly, stops the other man from falling to the floor with one hand pressed against his hip, and doubles his efforts.

He sucks and licks and pushes his lips over Ty’s cock in a rhythm that rivals some of his best until he can feel the tell-tale throbbing. He slides his lips over and off Ty, pumps with his fist, and calls him sweetheart.

Then Ty’s coming with a silent cry surrounded by the echo of Dean’s warm laughter.

* * *

“Hey, man,” Sam greets his brother as he waltzes into the bunker.

Dean’s in the bag and blissed out. Sam’s just happy he’s home in one piece after the dip in his mood since that last vamp hunt.

“Hey,” Dean grunts. “I’m beat, headed to bed.”

He doesn’t stop as he cuts through the library to make his way to his sleeping quarters, doesn’t notice the Christmas tree that Charlie insisted she and Sam decorate and set in the corner to surprise Dean.

Sam watches Dean disappear down the hall. Dean seems to be feeling better, and Sam refocuses on his reading, telling himself that Dean will be able to appreciate the tree in the morning.


End file.
